O Fortune,
variable as the moon,
always dost thou wax and wane.
Detestable life,
first dost thou mistreat us,
and then,whimsically,
thou heedest our desires.
As the sun melts the ice,
so dost thou dissolve
both poverty and power.
Monstrous and empty fate,
thou, turning wheel,
art mean,
voiding good health at thy will.
Veiled in obscurity,
thou dost attack me also.
To thy cruel pleasure
I bare my back.
Thou dost withdraw
my health and virtue;
thou dost threaten
my emotion and weakness
with torture.
At this hour,
therefore,
let us pluck the strings without delay.
Let us mourn together,
for